Untameable
by Greenkey2
Summary: Lara receives a curious artefact, and an unexpected mythological visitor, from a baffled Middle Eastern professor.


© Jennifer R. Milward 2009

This story is a work of fiction. Lara Croft, her likeness, and the Tomb Raider games are all copyright of EIDOS Interactive. There is no challenge to these copyrights intended by this story, as it is a non-sanctioned, unofficial work of the author's own.

Untameable

Smiling to herself, Lara closed the door. Snowflakes whirled briefly before settling on the polished floor, melting to form glistening puddles.

Excitedly, she set the surprisingly lightweight package down on the coffee table and read the note. She could almost hear the professor's exasperated sigh as he scribbled:

"_Lady Croft. Please find enclosed the latest batch of tablets, as __requested. Rafiq__ guesses about 2500 BC, but he wasn't exactly sober when the results came back from the lab. Any clues would be appreciated. Your servant, __Prof' __Muhammad Junaid."_

The familiar tingle of discovery fluttered somewhere in her stomach. Here, in a slightly grubby courier envelope, beside her half-finished beans on toast, sat an example of one of the world's oldest writing systems. Impatiently her fingers caressed the wad-like bulges, like a child investigating their Christmas presents.

Snow was falling thickly behind the frosted windows as Lara padded her way upstairs and into her study. Her view of the grounds was of a monochrome world, touched by colour only by chance - the retreating scarlet of the delivery van, or the bristling green revealed as piled whiteness slid from an evergreen branch. The soft _phhmp_ of snow on snow had punctuated the wintery silence throughout the previous night.

Her computer was purring softly as she settled down at her desk. Examples of Indus Valley scripture scrolled across the screen as she bent over the stone tablets. Each was about the size of her palm, and carved from coppery-coloured stone slightly warm to the touch. It would have been blasphemous for the professor to even consider sending her plaster replicas – he knew she preferred the real thing.

She had been up most of the night brushing up on likely texts in the hope of understanding the markings. They had successfully baffled every scholar to ever attempt a translation, as a blushing Professor Junaid had confessed over the videophone.

"_A__ challenge_," Lara had smirked. _"Y__ou know I can never resist a challenge__,__ Professor__."_

Reverently, she laid them out on the mahogany desk. Five tablets in all, excavated from a site in northeast Pakistan that had been earmarked as an amusement park until diggers stumbled across the ruins. The result after the announcement had been an academic exodus, as archaeologists from all over the world descended on the site - buzzing with the kind of enthusiasm normally reserved for five year olds with shiny red bicycles.

Fascinating, but _far_ too crowded for Lara's tastes.

Several hours went by. The fire smouldered, almost going out entirely until the chill reminded her to stoke it afresh and pile on extra logs. She glanced at the portrait of her father above the mantelpiece, envying the thick fur parka from his arctic expedition. Leo, his faithful Great Dane, stood at his side, tongue lolling out in doggy bliss. A spiteful pang reminded her how she had sometimes longed for a companion - not a sidekick needing to be babied or an over-bearing parvenu, but an _equal_. Most of the humans in her experience had not measured up to such expectations.

Eventually she returned to her computer, and began her initial reply.

"Samples 1#, 2# and 3#," she muttered, fingers flying across the keyboard, "Typical iconography, but a hundred years younger than Rafiq's estimate. The animal motifs are unusually well-executed. I can identify elephant, tiger and water buffalo. Tablet #5 is most likely to be a _qilin_; the Chinese chimera."

She paused, leaning back in her chair. Rising, she returned to the workbench where all five tablets lay cushioned on a length of black velvet. Her eye was drawn to Sample 4#, the smallest in the group, and the most puzzling. It sat in her hand like a seed; full of pregnant expectation. The unidentifiable, goat-like animal carved on its surface seemed to wink. She couldn't shake the feeling it was watching her.

"Sample #4," she murmured, tracing the runes with her thumb, "Possibly a desert ibex, but drawn in profile as to obscure the double horns, making them appear as one. But why… And these blasted runes don't make any sense _at all_…"

It was getting late when Lara emerged from the shower, towelling her hair after a brisk stint in the pool. Any hope of banishing her dissatisfaction with the translation had faded after the first forty lengths. Her hands were scraped raw from a gruelling assault on the gym climbing wall, which she had attacked with more than her usual vigour, unable to dispel the sense of being followed. Twice during her customary targeting practise she had missed her shot, distracted at the crucial instant by movement in the corner of her eye. But when she had turned to look, there was nothing there.

"Get a grip on yourself girl," she glared at her reflection in her bedroom's gilt mirror. "You _wi__ll_ figure it out."

A gust rattled the window pane, blowing acrid smoke back down the chimney.

Without warning the intercom buzzed. Wearily, she looked out the window to where an ancient blue Renault Dauphine was inching its way up the snow-bound driveway. Its dinky headlights shone bravely through the swirling flakes, and her mouth lifted in a smile. Winston was back, exactly on time, as always. Lara had assured him that she could manage perfectly well for a day while he visited his elderly aunt in hospital twenty miles away. Even the heaviest snows couldn't have persuaded him to take a four-wheeled drive - not when his beloved Dauphine sat idling in the garage, spoiling to be driven.

She held down the receiver, "Winston? Is everything alright?"

"Lady Croft. Thank you, everything is in order ma'am."

"The door's already open. I'll be in the library."

"Very good ma'am."

"How is Josephine?"

"Improving, thank you for asking ma'am. The doctors, wait… what… Lady! What the- No, stop! I-"

"Winston? Winston!" Lara jabbed the intercom, as the screech of tires and a long, drawn-out cry of terror were quickly cut off, leaving only static. She was out the door in an instant, padding down the carpeted staircase in her bare feet. Her hand automatically cocked and slipped the safety off the pistol grabbed from her bedside drawer, and her damp hair swung in a brunette curtain as she vaulted the banister and shot out the main door, into the snow and the darkness.

She tracked the tire marks round the side of the house, gun held low, eyes alert. Coldness scrabbled to find purchase on her, raising goosebumps already awoken by the old man's shouts. In the gloom the grounds were the colour of steel, except for squares and patches of sparkling gold spilling from the manor windows. The car had braked hard, opening deep ruts in the snow, and stopped abruptly short of a raised flowerbed.

Winston sat like a lump of stone - gloved hands clutching the wheel, eyes stretched wide in disbelief.

From its perch amongst the juniper bushes, the unicorn tilted its proud head and whickered softly at Lara.

She lowered the gun, but kept the safety catch off.

"Winston?" she asked, "Stay behind me. Don't make any sudden movements."

Undeterred, she inched closer, soft and deliberate. "Well now, where did you come from, I wonder…? Not from around here, are you? You've been here before, haven't you… brought far from home. I bet you miss the warm. When were you last here… tenth, eleventh century perhaps? You made _quite_ an impression."

The beast snorted, tossing its mane. Even hidden in the shadows, it glowed. Silently Winston rose from the car, still transfixed.

"I never…" he trailed off, "It's so-"

"Were you expecting something fluffy?" Lara muttered, not raising her voice, "Unicorns were not creatures for little girls in pink ribbons. They're fiercer, stronger and wilder than any other being. Unbreakable."

The creature's nostrils flared at her approach. It lowered its head, levelling its horn at her chest. Contrary to Winston's expectations, it was not some glittering spire of rainbow glass. _This_ horn was two feet of ebony-black, with razor edges that split the falling snowflakes in two without pausing their descent.

Its whinny was a roar of challenge.

"Back off," she shooed the old man back, meeting the creature's gaze directly. To Winston's horror she holstered the gun and held out a hand.

A lump like a bowling ball lodged somewhere in Winston's throat as the beast stepped down. Now it was on her level, he could more clearly see the bunched muscles, the terrible strength and size that dwarfed the measure of any mortal horse. The smell of it hit him, like a desert's spice-laden wind.

It shied, and trustingly placed the tip of its horn on her shoulder. His mouth dropped open as Lara gamely patted its neck, as if the two were the oldest of friends; whispering words he could not make out.

She turned to him.

"Don't look so surprised Winston. You _know_ what they say about unicorns."

"But… Lady Croft…"

"I think a pot of tea is in order, if you please. _After _you get Dauphine out of this dreadful cold."

"I-" he began, but the unicorn let out a warning snort. "Very good ma'am."

_As if__ anyone could__ decipher__ you__!_ She thought, thinking back to the tablet's upstairs, and felt the beast's laughter match her own.

_We're neither of us tameable_, came its reply as it nudged her hand.

Her smile was rueful.

"Of course. _No one's_ been good enough… yet."

3

© Jennifer Milward 2009


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